


The Tallest Tower

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 05:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: It takes a big enough ego to break the record of someone just as self-centered.based on this post: https://randomwriteronline.tumblr.com/post/186544419620/about-bert-and-norman-teaming-up-to-neat-joeys





	The Tallest Tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Black_Box](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Black_Box/gifts).

“Get on there.”

Norman looked at the crouched man with wild discomfort.

“Mr. Piedmont, sir, I, I can use a chair.”

“The great Bertrum Piedmont will not be bested by a piece of furniture, Mr. Polk. You will climb on my back _immediately_ or-”

“It’s just a can tower-”

“ONE THAT WILL BE TALLER THAN DREW’S! EVEN IF T MEANS I WILL HAVE TO _BREAK MY SPINE_ FOR IT!”

“Bertrum,” interrupted Lacie, “Yer gonna kill yerself. Let me do it, I can lift Norman just fine.”

“Lacie, dear, you are quite kind and I would put my life in your hands, but you lack the height required by the task at hand.”

“If Norman stands on my shoulders we’d be almost a good foot over Drew-”

“_I have commited to this and if you wish to stop me you will have to **kill** me. Polk, get on my shoulders or so help me God._”

The projectionist stood for a second, still uneasy. Finally, he tentatively put the tip of his shoes on top of Bertrum’s shoulder. It lasted less than a millisecond, however, for he immediately retracted it in fear.

“Nope.” he said, raising his hands over his head, “Nope. Not doin’ it. Not killin’ a man today.”

“Polk…”

“I carry projectors, I’m better suited for this, please, sir-”

“_Put_. Your _feet_. On my _shoulders_.”

This time, the second elder obliged without a word.

Bertrum Piedmont rose up in a triumph of pained huffs and stood, still and planted in the earth beneath him like an overglorified marble column in the middle of a building which has been said to be about to be demolished for five whole years now. Norman Polk clutched the empty can in his hands like his life depended on it and had the face of a man who would very much rather sit down.

“Fucking Joey Drew.” he hissed through gritted teeth, “I will show him. ‘No one has beaten my record yet!’, he says, thinking I will not see the challenge in his words. Oh, he’s in for a surprise, he is.”

Ah, Lacie thought as she passed another can to the terrified projectionist, suddenly understanding, Out-egoing. That’s the source of his strength.

They were one can shy of finally beating the record when Joey barged in limping at a speed reminiscent of Mach 5, hand outstretched to knock down the two old men’s hard work.

Lacie slapped him right in the middle of his face; he did a spectacular somersault and splatted undignifiedly on the floor.

“Hah!” said Bertrum as he showed the half-dead animator the bird.


End file.
